End Run

So what is a compulsive trainer supposed to do?

I had exactly one month in which to complete my attendance requirement for my next promotion. The number of advanced classes needed sat at 5.

To give you some form of comparison, a normal student makes it to a dozen classes in that amount of time, and a nut job like me should manage more like 16.

Seems easy, doesn’t it?

Trouble is, it is fun time. We are with our very best friends, and I have determined not to let my usual training interfere with anybody’s enjoyment, especially my own.

What that meant training-wise is that in the first half of the month, I attended only a single, measly class.

This simply could not stand. I was well on my way to missing my self-imposed goal. Failure would only mean a short delay in promotion, but I would be rather displeased with anything of the sort.

Last night, I banged off a class locally, and today I did a Big City trip to rack up two more. That leaves me exactly 13 days to get one more class. If I can’t manage that I might as well hang up my belt altogether.

It also turns out that Helen, Lola, and Bernie are having at least as much fun without me they do when I’m there. They are off doing antique shopping and similar things that they are kind enough not to drag me to. With me gone, they go nuts.

It would be simplest to do my final required class locally in terms of time invested, but I’m enjoying my city training so much today that I would rather do the long-haul again instead.

Anyhow, all is well.